


Captive to the Prince

by Mythril (fantacination)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Don't Like Don't Read, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fingering, Forced D/s, Humiliation, M/M, Molestation, Multi, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, PRE-SEASON 3 FIC, Referenced prostitution, Sexual Slavery, Slowly incorporating what I can but surprisingly not too far off base, Tentacles, Unsafe BDSM, Whipping, Xenobiology, Xenophilia, because Lotor has a harem and he's not afraid to use it, dubcon, everyone is over 18, except not yet, forced bdsm, heterosexual activities, inadvisable fic posts, it's going to be a bit dark in here folks, lotor is pan, rating for future chapters tbh, slowburn pwp, tags to be added later if I continue, unless you count lotor's objective as plot, warning for gagging if you're sensitive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-10-14 00:38:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10525254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantacination/pseuds/Mythril
Summary: Prince Lotor has the Black Lion. He also has the Black Paladin. Both of them, in fact.





	1. Chapter 1

“I’d wondered what I’d find, when we took the Black Lion and pried open its maw.” 

Prince Lotor, the acting Commander of the Empire, stood in front of Keith’s cell, a thin, gold crown perched on his head and a heavy cloak draped over his armor. He looked every bit his parents’ son, eyes shrewd and calculating; his voice a charismatic purr in the strange isolation of the prison block. 

“And our informants say you used to pilot the red one. We’d never even heard of a paladin being chosen twice. You must be quite special.” 

Keith couldn’t have answered something so ridiculous even if he’d wanted to. His mouth was dry and his throat voiceless. His arms ached from being bound behind his back. After unknown days of captivity, he had no idea why he was still alive. Or whether the others were. He hoped they’d escaped, at least. He hoped they managed to keep the rest of Voltron out of the Empire’s hands. 

“So quiet. Do you fear me so?” Lotor asked

Keith snorted. As if anything could scare him now. They hadn’t even tortured him yet- which made him suspect that they had far more complex plans than anything he’d imagined. The little gust of air it brought to his throat made it rasp and he coughed violently. A pathetic sound. 

“You must be parched,” the prince said silkily. The barrier disappeared with a touch of his fingers and he stepped into the cell, spider to fly. The whisper of his flowing cape against the floor was a hissing snake. Keith stayed where he was, refusing to back away like a cowed dog. 

“I can see my father was right about you- you’ve certainly our pride.” He extracted a pouch of water from somewhere under his mantle, holding it above Keith. 

“But you will beg, won’t you? Once you understand your place,” he said calmly, kneeling down. Somehow, it made his loom more pronounced, bulky armor casting a shadow over Keith’s bound form.

“Fuck. You,” Keith grunted, his voice paper-thin. He had no idea if Lotor would even understand a curse from earth, but it satisfied something dark and helpless inside him.  

Lotor grasped Keith’s jaw- a large hand, claw-tipped, with enough latent strength to simply snap Keith’s neck with a flex of his wrist. He waited for it, tense and breath short, but instead of killing him, Lotor pressed until the bone ached, forcing his mouth open. Two fingers prodded at his dry tongue, pressing down with intent that made Keith nauseous, even without the dehydration. 

“That  _ is _ very dry, isn’t it.” He pushed his fingers further in. Keith jerked, but the other hand kept him in place. The gentle prick of claws on his tongue kept him still. Lotor touched the back of his throat, sharp gold eyes watching Keith’s expression.

“Much better.” He pulled his fingers out, tacky with dried spit, and wiped it on Keith’s shoulder. He reached for the pouch again and squeezed it open, letting the water trickle into Keith’s open mouth. 

Keith would have groaned if he’d had the breath. Cool water was sweet on his tongue and he drank, gulping between tiny sips of air. Lotor let his head go but kept the pouch in his fist, leaving Keith little choice but to suck the ends of the pouch to drink. He was tempted to spit it out anyway. He didn’t know Lotor’s game, but his gaze left his skin crawling. 

When he was done, Lotor smiled, sharp teeth like the gleam of a knife. “So you can be trained, hm? I was starting to think you were nothing more than a mad clotxl,” 

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” 

Lotor made a soft sound that was almost a hum, pale locks sliding down his shoulder as he gave an elegant shrug. “Why indeed. It’s wasteful. The Empire is nothing but practical. I’m certain you’ve more use to us than that-- Black Paladin.” 

“After all, your predecessor has been very useful indeed.” He got to his feet. “You wish to see him, don’t you? The Champion.” 

Keith’s eyes widened. Shiro. They couldn’t have-- he’d been looking, all of them have. Ever since the day they’d found the cockpit empty.

“You doubt me, but my mother and I are quite familiar with the Astral Planes. It is a desert greater than any starfield, vast and deep and riddled through with holes into different realities. We found him half-crazed, wandering. His mind broken from fractured visions. Of course, Mother may have helped it along.” 

Keith tried to gather the strength to lunge at him with a wordless growl. 

Lotor backhanded him calmly, sending Keith, armor and all, clattering across the floor. 

“What,” he said, looking down upon him, “would you do to see him again?”

_ Everything. Anything.  _ Keith thought and the prince read it from his beaten face. 

He smiled. “Guards will come for you. Fight them and each step will be a stripe on your friend’s back.” 

“If you hurt him,” Keith started to struggle to heave himself upright.

Lotor smirked. “I’d never lift a finger. You’ll do that yourself.” 

He turned, mocking the paladin with the view of his back, and swept out of the cell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I think I'm mostly posting this to see if there is actually other Lotor/Keith fic bc I'm having a hard time finding it.  >.>;; 
> 
> Update: Happily there is, but not too much yet, so I guess I'll leave it up for now. :')


	2. Chapter 2

Keith’s temper seethed and cooled in turns. His mind was a whirlpool of competing thoughts in the eddy of Lotor’s visit.

The realization that Shiro was right here, somewhere on this same ship, changed things. It was one thing to face death on his own- it was a fate he’d always known would be his. But he couldn’t die while Shiro was waiting to be rescued. He was the only one who knew he was here, alive. He needed a plan. Too bad he didn't have one.

Even if Lotor had been lying, the possibility was too great to ignore. They’d searched every other corner of the universe- why not here? The Empire had a wide reach. It wasn’t improbable that they’d found him first.

Allura and the others didn’t understand. Not really. Not even Lance. Shiro was _necessary_ . Necessary to Voltron, who had floundered under Keith’s inexpert hand. Necessary to the Universe’s chances of winning. Necessary to _Keith_. Because without him, everything he’d done had always been half-lived.

As the search had plodded into weeks, he’d realized that while they all mourned, people had started to think that Shiro might not be alive- or that he might be in a different reality, permanently out of their reach. Even Pidge, stubborn and full of alternate possibilities, had started to waver.

And once again, Keith was left on his own.

But if he got Shiro out, if he saved him- that would be worth anything. Any price. Even just knowing that he was safe… Would mean he’d done something right.

Keith didn’t know how long it was before the guards came but he forced himself to be meek when they did, allowing them to drag him up by an arm. Large and burly, they hardly seemed to consider him a threat. On any other day, Keith would’ve used that to his advantage. He would’ve done something rash to surprise them, grabbed a gun and run for it.

On any other day, Keith hadn’t known they had Shiro.

Squeezed between the guards, he could hardly see a thing beyond the immediate hallway, but he counted steps and turns with a grim determination. He only paused when the guards themselves did, shoving him into a small, circular chamber.

The guards followed him in. One held him still as the bindings were cut and his armor was removed. When the Galra’s hands reached for his flight suit, Keith started to struggle instinctively. What were they _doing_?

“One lash,” the guard behind him said crisply. “More, if you continue to resist.”

“This is enough, his weapons were confiscated when he was taken and the Prince will want him soon,” he continued. He touched a panel on the wall and the chamber started to move, rising.

“This one is a lot smaller than the other one was,” his partner commented as they waited.

“They’re not an impressive race. Perhaps it’s a different subspecies.” The soldier shrugged.

Once the elevator came to a stop, they took him past the door on the other side. A long hallway stretched out before him, windowless. Were they too deep inside the fortress for that? Or had it been a precaution?

At the end of the hall, the guards stopped, pushing him past the door and into a large, square chamber. In the middle, Lotor was sparring with a trio of soldiers dressed in armor very similar to what the prince often wore, emblazoned with a blue starburst. As far as they’d ever been able to tell, it seemed to be the insignia of the Prince’s personal army and guard.

But it was the first time he’d seen any of them without their masks. The one in the lead was slim and female, ivory-pale with hip-length creamy waves of hair, long, rabbit-like ears, and dark, pupilless eyes. Of the two beside her, one was a tall male with typical Galra coloring, but strange tentacle-like limbs helped block the Prince’s attacks. The last was even larger than he was, with a leathery hood like a cobra. Her entire lower half melded into a darkly-mottled, powerful snake’s tail. For all that they seemed competent and quick, they didn’t seem to be gaining much ground in the fight.

The guards were using long, heavy staves like the one Allura sometimes used. Lotor was holding them off using his own weapon: a broadsword with a purple and gold hilt.

Looking at them, Keith had a good idea what Lotor wanted out of him today. Except he wouldn’t even have the benefit of armor, it looked like.

“Paladin,” Lotor said thrusting the sword down in front of him to acknowledge Keith and signal the end of the match. His silver hair had been braided back for the fight, but the crown prince’s circlet rested on his forehead, undisturbed. Standing before him, he had the air of a predator at rest.

The guards bowed and left the arena, standing to the side. There were more of them, too, faces covered by masks.

“You may approach.”

Slowly, Keith stepped forward. The prickle of the soldiers’ stares at his unprotected back made his hair stand on end.

Lotor gestured at one of the soldiers, who came forward with a knife. Keith’s knife.

He stared at it, scarcely believing they were going to give it back.

“A handsome blade. Did you know Luxite was found almost exclusively on our home planet? We haven’t found any other deposit of it since. Its metallurgy is long lost, but the tales remain. Many of our families keep scraps, pieces inherited from their ancestors. And yet here is this fine specimen-- in the hands of an alien.”

Lotor hefted his sword, leveling it at Keith “Pick it up.”

Keith hesitated. What was he after? The Blades? Did he think he, an alien, had stolen it from one of them or one of their own? It wouldn’t be the first time someone had questioned why he had it, but it was unlikely a prince would care. He couldn’t imagine why the prince would give him any gift that wasn’t a trap. He was the enemy. That was how it went.

Keith accepted the knife, finding the worn handle a comfort despite his hostile surroundings.

Patience. Focus, he reminded himself. It didn’t matter what Lotor wanted. He just had to make sure he survived and the knife stayed inert-- trying to win the battle would be pointless anyway, with some dozen Galra soldiers watching on. No matter how much he might want to bury the knife in Lotor’s throat.

He gripped it tightly, ready. Reach would be against him, but he could make the Prince work for it.

He settled, centering his gravity and facing Lotor head-on. “I’m ready.”

He’d scarcely said it before Lotor moved. His sword swung, eating up the distance between them easily. Keith backed away, muscles aching and stumbling with disuse. He shot a hand out to strike the mat and compensate, twisting back and lashing a kick out towards Lotor’s ankles.

It missed. Keith looked up and tucked into a roll, just barely avoiding two feet of steel. He surged to his feet, knife an arc that ended in Lotor’s side. The armor was too thick, even under the breastplate, and Lotor moved, the tip of Keith’s dagger scraping impotently against the underside of the plate.

Interest lit Lotor’s cat-like eyes. “I may believe you fought my father after all.”

“Shut up,” Keith breathed. He didn’t need Lotor’s commentary. He switched hands and went in low, aiming for Lotor’s unprotected thighs.

Lotor’s lips curved up. “It’s civil conversation.” He parried Keith’s knife, letting the paladin chase him back, unbothered.

“What are you trying to do?” Keith asked bluntly. As long as the prince was feeling chatty, he might as well say something worthwhile. “You never wanted a fair fight.” Why the display?

“Why should I fight fair when I can win?” Lotor arched a brow and pressed forward, locking Keith’s blade and bearing down with his greater height and weight.

Keith tried to disengage, but his arm buckled and Lotor ripped the blade from his grip, sending it clattering across the floor.

“Equality is an illusion, Paladin,” Lotor said with a sharp smile. “Winners will win. Strength is not chance. Life is a struggle to tip the scales in your favor.”

“I’m not here for philosophy class.”

“No,” Lotor agreed. “It’s obedience you’ll learn today. Kneel.” It was so quick that Keith couldn’t react, even though he saw it a split second before the flat of Lotor’s blade smacked into his knees.

“Gh!” Keith fell, pain making him bite into his lip. He managed to catch himself on his hands, just.

Lotor stepped his booted heel onto his back, forcing him further down. “This is the lesson, Paladin: you are weak. Perhaps you are stronger than some, but here you are nothing. The least of my guards could gut you where you stood, if I but allowed it.”

Pinned to the floor, Keith clenched his fists. “So why haven’t they? Why keep me? Or--”

The pressure on his back grew and Lotor leaned close, the ends of his long hair tickling Keith’s face. “I’m a collector. My father only wanted the Black Lion, the core of the dead star that had come to us to be shaped. I prefer something a little more practical: specimens. And you motley little creatures are quite interesting.”

Slaves, Keith thought, his gut clenching. Like the ones they’d rescued from Sendak’s ship. Like what they’d turned Shiro into in the arena. Was that where Shiro was now? Again?

“Take my guard, for example. Beautiful are they not?” Lotor waved carelessly at the soldiers that ringed them. “Each of them is unique, the strongest and most vicious, the best of each of their lines. All I require is their perfect obedience and they live, free and happy.”

“Obedience isn’t freedom,” Keith said, teeth gritted. “And slavery is oppression.”

“Is it?” Lotor asked reasonably. “Pride tethers you. Indecision and conflict freeze your limbs.” Lotor pulled his boot back and Keith pushed himself to his knees, intending to get up and get his knife.

But something else caught his attention then.

“Bring him,” Lotor ordered. And two soldiers stepped forward, revealing someone crumpled at their feet.

If the prince hadn’t brought Keith’s attention to it, he wouldn’t have recognized Shiro.

Shiro was gagged, a bit between his teeth connected to a plated collar. Someone had taken his arm, the stump of his flesh one ending a few inches past his elbow. This and his remaining good arm were shackled together in front of him. He was dressed in only half his old undersuit, scars littered across his body both old and new.  

“ _What did you do to him?!_ ” Keith was on his feet in moments, starting for Shiro before the guards blocked his way. He tried to push past them, only to be knocked back on his ass.

Shiro’s eyes were blank and unseeing. He didn’t seem to realize where he was, let alone that Keith was scant feet away from him.

“He had a troubling tendency to attempt to kill himself,” Lotor said placidly. “But he’s here to serve instrumental to your lesson. You wish to touch him, don’t you? Ascertain he’s the friend you’re looking for?”  

Keith turned to the prince, hands trembling. “What do you want.”

“Come to me. Kiss my feet and accept my terms.”

Keith wanted to snarl. But if that was Shiro-- Shiro was right there. He couldn’t gamble with his life. Any oath he took here, he reasoned, would be a sham.

He started to walk towards Lotor- only to be stopped. “Crawl,” Lotor specified. “On your knees.”

Slowly, Keith dropped, shuffling on his injured knees towards where Lotor was. His face burned with anger as he reached Lotor and stopped, faintly repulsed. “What terms?”

“You will not fight except when I instruct you,” Lotor said lazily, sword tip thrust back into the ground and leaning on it. “You will obey my orders or each mark against you is a mark against your friend. You will complete your tasks swiftly, and ably, exactly as I tell you to. I need not tell you the fate of a traitor is death- your friend’s.”

Keith nodded stiffly and closed his eyes, brushing his lips quickly across the tops of Lotor’s boots. The metal was cold, well-polished.

“Not so hard was it?” Lotor inquired. “Bring the other one here,” he instructed the room at large.

Shiro was brought forward and Keith couldn’t resist- he reached for him.

“One more thing,” Lotor said.

A guard dropped something in front of him- a metal rod that ended in a long energy whip.

“Take it. You resisted twice. That’s two lashes for your friend.”

Keith stared at him blankly. “No.”

“Three.”

“I can’t- I _won’t_. You can punish me however you want but I didn’t agree to your terms back then, you can’t punish him for it!”

Lotor paused. “Let’s say I indulge your reasoning. You’d take it in his stead?”

“Yes,” Keith said without hesitation.

“Even if I tell you it’ll be far more severe?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Keith said stubbornly.

“Then strip,” Lotor said, eyes sharp.

Keith got to his feet and reached for the front zip of his suit, pulling it down with a mechanical hiss that was too loud in the silent room.

The air was cold. Clearly the Galra didn’t believe in creature comforts like appropriate heating. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how cold Shiro was on the floor. He shucked his arms out of the sleeves and peeled the rest of it off. The suit had never allowed for underwear and without it, Keith was more naked than Shiro was. It hardly mattered.

Lotor’s eyes lingered over him, sweeping down with interest. The others didn’t seem as impressed.

Keith scowled and consciously made no effort to cover himself. “Am I supposed to do it myself?”

“Illys, if you would. Ten stripes,” Lotor said calmly.

The snake-woman from before came forward and picked the whip up. Keith turned his back to her and knelt.

The first strike was like a shock, like someone had pressed a hot brand to his skin. The sick smell of burning flesh nearly made him gag. The second made him shake and the third on top of that made him scream.

Lotor watched, but his sharp-cut purple features and lamplight eyes started to fade around the edges with pain. Keith tried to search Shiro out as he lost count of the strikes. The older man was still bound at the soldier’s feet. A seed of confusion had appeared in his dull gaze.

 _Shiro_. It had to be. He needed to find out where he was being kept and--

  
Keith never completed the thought as the whip came down again and he slipped into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am doomed to ship the rarepairs. sob.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the new tags for warnings!

When Keith next opened his eyes, he couldn’t make sense of where he was. The room was simply so far removed from the familiar, blunt militaristic efficacy he’d gotten used to on Galran ships that Keith wasn’t sure he wasn’t having a bizarre dream. The ceiling was glass, built high with arching beams framing the vista of space, immediately arresting your attention. The walls around him were made of a reflective, glossy glass that mirrored the stars outside. The floor was some kind of cool plush fleece. Only the glowing purple lighting let Keith know he was still on the ship.  Before now, he wouldn’t have thought Galra even knew what carpeting was. 

He rolled to his side, hissing in pain when the skin on his back stretched, reminding him that he’d been flayed. Strangely, it didn’t hurt as much as he remembered it to. The feeling of torn skin hanging from his back had subsided to a burning ache. He couldn’t have been out that long… right? But it was harder than it should have been to get to his feet. 

Small wonder, with the cuffs that now cased his limbs, present at every joint as though just restraining his hands wouldn’t be enough. The cuffs were made of a dark plum metal that looked eerily like what they used for armor, with protrusions that suggested they could be attached or anchored  to something. Energy chains, probably. They seemed to be magnetic, with the nodes on either side of the cuffs on his wrists sealing to eachother. He tested its strength, but the metal only cut into his wrists bruisingly. He’d cut his wrists slowly and painfully of with them before he could get free. Dislocating a thumb wouldn’t be enough to get through the holes, either. He could feel the same cold metal at his throat, glowing with the tainted quintessence the Galra used. 

That by itself might not have been so bad. Except, they’d changed his wardrobe too, replacing it with what he imagined was a strangely cut slave’s undersuit. His shoulders and most of his front and back were bare, protesting the slightly chill air, and the material had been cut around the insides of his thighs and his ass, framing it with lewd ignominy. He plucked at it- it felt cool to the touch. The material itself was thin and subtly glossy, dark with undertones of purple. It was so tight it seemed to have been molded onto him, clinging to every crease. 

The idea that someone had dressed him in this was… disturbing, to say the least. Who did it? Guards? Slaves? Lotor himself? He couldn’t picture the prince doing something like trying to wrestle him into what was essentially a fullbody stocking. He shuddered at the idea, skin chilled, remembering the speculative look he’d cast over him as he’d stripped. 

He was in the middle of trying to figure out if he should try to tear it off, just in case, when someone stepped into his periphery. 

“You’re awake.” It was one of the unmasked guards- the part-Galra one. 

“You're a lot tougher than you look and Illys is no  _ wamara _ .” His voice was jarringly pleasant, a smooth baritone like you might hear on a radio back on earth. It also sounded like he was a bit older than Lotor was. Not that Keith could tell, exactly without any basis for Galra age.

“You heal faster than your friend, too. My lord will like that.” 

Keith could care less about what Lotor liked. And he doubted the guard could be talking about anyone else.

“Where am I? Where’s-- Shiro?” Keith coughed, his throat still a little raw from screaming. “This isn’t my cell.” Or any place he’d ever been in.

He surveyed the man distrustfully. He was tall, as Galra usually were, with the sharp cheekbones that he tended to associate with them. His nose was flattened into a snout, jaw clean and strong. A thick, mottled purple ridge crested from his head, splitting into pairs of thick tentacles that twined together, draping over his shoulders and falling past his hips. They gleamed even in the low light, glossy with what he assumed was a thin layer of mucus. They seemed quiescent, outside battle, but the more delicate tendrils curled together idly, like a human might twiddle thumbs. The rest of him seemed typical of a Galra, save for the unusual coloring and what he assumed were stubby fins on his hips. He was built leanly, which seemed to be a trend for most Galra who weren’t Sendak or Zarkon. 

“That’s because it isn’t. This is one of the chambers in His Highness’ apartments.” The man waved a tentacle lazily at their surroundings, his jointed arms crossed. “I’m here to take you to the Prince, now that you’re awake.” 

Guard, then. Keith’s gaze flicked to a potential exit. He was alone. Should he risk trying to overpower him? 

“I know what you’re thinking. I wouldn’t recommend it,” the guard said casually. “Orders were to take you there, but I can pick how to do that. Thanks to that little display of yours, too, everyone and their broodsworn knows your weak spot.” 

Keith scowled, getting to his feet. “What’s the point of dressing me like this?” 

“I thought that was obvious. They make them a little simple back home where you came from?” The Galra pondered, not unfriendly. He leaned on a scimitar that stretched from the floor to his chin. “I’m Glak, by the way. We’ll be seeing more of eachother from now on.”

“What do you mean?” 

“You’ll see.” Glak said and pushed Keith forward, leading him away. His tentacles drifted, brushing against Keith’s side. Disquieted, he thought about pulling away. Fortunately for him, it was a shorter trip than he’d anticipated. 

The door opened directly into another room, much larger than the one he’d been in. 

At the center of the cavernous room, Prince Lotor leaned his head on one propped fist. He was the picture of royal indolence, seated on a hoverchair upholstered in dark wine leather. He was barely dressed in a thin silvery robe that draped from his broad shoulders. The lavender skin beneath it was smooth as silk, toned muscle peeking out from the deep v of the robe. His stomach looked sculpted- and like he worked to make it that way. His hair was loose, now, falling over his shoulder in sinuous, gleaming locks. 

One of the guards from before- the slender woman with the long ears- was settled against his side, naked. One of Lotor’s hands was buried between her thighs, making her pant, cheeks flushed and breasts bouncing with the effort to ride the prince’s fingers.

For a second, Keith thought they’d come in at the wrong time. But Glak didn’t make any move to leave. He’d settled his blade by his side, within easy cutting distance if Keith somehow tried to rush Lotor. 

“Paladin,” Lotor’s rich voice drawled. “Come here.” His hand twisted and the woman beside him moaned loudly. 

Unnerved and unwilling to show it, Keith walked forward slowly, his steps measured. Then, deliberately, he stopped. 

From here, he could see a sunken alcove behind Lotor’s chair, built like a retractable shell. The depression consisted entirely of what looked to be a mattress. Two others were tangled there- both seemed to be Galra-or mostly so, with purple, furred skin and glowing eyes that watched him with guarded interest.They were both naked and wore no cuffs or chains. 

His gaze glossed over them hastily, returning to a point somewhere over Lotor’s shoulder. 

“Do you wish to join them?” Lotor asked idly. 

“No.” Keith said. Even if he’d been the kind who would be tempted, each of Lotor’s bedmates were larger than Lotor himself and had far too many fangs and claws between them for Keith’s comfort. 

Lotor hummed with amusement. “You require far more training before you’re fit for other company. Turn,” he instructed, gesturing a little spin with one finger. 

Keith reluctantly spun in place once, feeling more self conscious than when he’d been naked. Maybe it was the fit of the clothes, tight and clinging like a second skin, almost sticky. It wasn’t much tighter than the Blades’ suit had been, but that had covered more. Or maybe it was the fact that he was alone here, surrounded by enemies deep in territory he could no longer hope to map. 

“Your friend called for you, you know- a name. ‘Keith’ was it?” Lotor said with the same lazy cadence. 

Keith stiffened, hating the way his name sounded on Lotor’s lips. “I guess longer ears don’t mean better hearing after all,” he said, eyes darting aside.

Lotor grinned. “Oh? He seemed  _ very _ certain. He was calling all night. We had to quiet him, you understand.” 

Keith jerked forward, fists clenched. “What did you do-” 

Lotor smirked. “You’ll be learning many lessons today, Paladin. Do well and you may get to see how your friend is doing yourself.”

Keith grit his teeth. Of course. 

“But your wardrobe is incomplete. Come.” Lotor laid a hand on his bare thigh.

Keith stared. He wasn’t  _ serious _ \-- was he? When Lotor’s brows started to rise, Keith slowly got on his lap, straddling a single knee gingerly. The bastard was sprawled in the chair, far too wide for Keith to reach the other one-- and far too tall for his feet to reach the floor. He was suddenly keenly aware that he had nothing on under the strip of cloth between his legs. He could feel Lotor’s smooth muscled thigh between his, surprisingly warm. 

He was tantalizingly close enough to try to choke him if he wanted-- but the naked guardswoman was glaring at him and he suspected Lotor wanted him to try it. There was a knowing little light in his eyes, like he could see inside Keith’s head and  _ see _ him make that decision. 

Lotor pulled his hand away from between the guard’s legs, sticky with something clear and pink, before offering his fingers for her to suck as his gaze roamed over Keith. 

Keith refrained from spitting on his face. Just. He’d do whatever Lotor wanted until he could secure Shiro. That didn’t mean he liked it, though.  

“What?” Keith asked when Lotor did nothing, forcing Keith to balance himself awkwardly for a long minute. 

“I was just thinking-- it’s been a decathebes since I had so defiant a slave.” He wrapped his hand around Keith’s throat, forcing his chin up. “And with such delicate bone structure,” he purred.

A chill ran down Keith’s spine and he tried not to jerk, repulsed. Lotor’s hand caught him, settling over the small of his back and curling over the swell of his ass, tracing the rim where the suit ended and sensitive skin began; the seam of his thigh. His claws seemed sheathed, but the edges still scraped, an underlying threat. 

“What… are you doing?” 

“Not very quick on the uptake are you? Your friend was far more responsive. Regrettably, not for long.” 

Keith dug his nails into his palms. He hated that he didn’t know what they’d done to Shiro, all this time almost as much as he hated that he couldn’t do anything about what else they could do. For now. But he could tell Lotor was needling him, this time. His smirk was too wide, his eyes daring him to give him a reason, any at all. 

And what would that mean, exactly? More whipping? Would they drag Shiro in to make an example of him again? The skin on his back ached with phantom memory, but he’d do it all over again if they’d let him; for Shiro. 

Lotor squeezed a handful of Keith’s ass- the tight spandex squeezing with him. Keith bit back a surprised yell, losing his precarious balance. He reached out to catch himself reflexively, his hands finding purchase on Lotor’s shoulders. He was pressed against him now, close like the lover still pressed against his side. And there was something warm and hard against his knee. 

It shouldn’t have taken this long for Keith to realize what Lotor wanted him for. What these games were about. But he’d thought he’d left that old Keith behind. 

He had assumed Lotor wanted a soldier, a pilot, or fodder for the arena- not a whore. But maybe those ideas weren’t mutually exclusive to Galra. He wondered, with a sick twist of his stomach, if that was why Shiro’s eyes had dulled. Not drugs but a systematic destruction of his will-- and that hurt. That made him tremble with rage. 

He grit his teeth as Lotor’s hand slipped under the cloth and meandered over his soft cock, then over the patch of warm skin, fingertips tracing around his sensitive sac. He felt between Keith’s spread thighs and squeezed his hips, sending a low pulse of knee-jerk arousal into Keith’s groin.

“Your anger is refreshing,” Lotor murmured and pulled his hand back. “You know no fear, do you? Save for one.” The prince smoothed his hands up Keith’s sides, thumbs scraping across Keith’s nipples, making them peak. 

He drew something from a compartment built into the side of the chair-- something that glittered and made a soft, tinkling sound. 

It was a silvery purple chain, so fine it was almost invisible in the poor lighting, and studded with purple and crimson gem-like drops. At first, he thought it was a necklace. But the largest drops, tear-shaped, sported tiny gold clamps. 

Before Keith could puzzle out what it was for, Lotor attached one clamp to each of Keith’s nipples.

Keith hissed, swallowing a yelp at the sting of pain. “What are you--” 

“Did I get the wrong ones?” Lotor smirked and tugged the chain that now connected the clamps, the chain weighted with the stones. 

It hurt. Keith wanted to take them off. Lotor touched the pinked skin around the clamps. 

“Beautiful. A pity your kind’s skin splits so easily. I already had to have one of the druids patch up the surface scars from your punishment. I hardly need  _ two _ scarred slaves for my collection.” 

Keith raised his fist- only to have Lotor catch his wrist, his grip painfully tight. “I just gave you a gift, Paladin. Is that any way to thank me for it?”

Keith wrenched his hand away. “Like hell, you motherfucking bastard,” he said, trusting that it wouldn’t translate any better than ‘quiznak’ did. 

Lotor pulled his knee back, unbalancing Keith so he fell off both Lotor and the chair, crumpling at the prince’s feet. 

“There are better ways for a slave to thank their masters. On your knees, Paladin- we start the lesson.” He shifted, a dark purple baton appearing in one hand. 

Despite the dull pain from the fall, Keith preferred the floor to Lotor’s lap enough that he didn’t complain about getting on his knees. 

“Arms up. Behind your head. Show me how much you appreciate my gift.” 

Keith placed his hands behind his neck, feeling utterly ridiculous even as the chains pulled at the movement, making him bite the inside of a cheek. His nipples were sore and it had barely been a minute since Lotor had put them on. He hadn’t even realized they could hurt like this. 

Lotor got up from the chair and threaded his fingers in Keith’s hair, sifting through the silky strands before yanking harshly, suddenly, tilting his head back. “This is the position you will assume when I say ‘present’.” 

He pushed Keith back down, releasing his hold. He lifted Keith’s hips and pushed his thighs apart. “You will assume this one when I say ‘submit’.” 

“You will not speak unless spoken to. You will thank me for any gifts. And you will call me ‘my lord’ or ‘my prince’.” 

Lotor stepped back and waited, fingers playing along the handle of his baton.

Keith wasn't  _ stupid _ . He knew what he was after. It just galled him to say it. It reminded him of childhood bullies and men who were overgrown versions of the same. 

“Thank you, my lord,” he grit out, infsing each word with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

“So you can learn to obey. If ill-shod. The former Black Paladin must enjoy that in you.” 

The insinuation was offensive- but likely not in the way Lotor had intended. Or maybe he was just fishing. Whatever he said-- he couldn’t risk it somehow being used against Shiro. 

“The  _ Black Paladin _ doesn’t need a whip to get people to follow him,” he said instead.

“Your loyalty is admirable. A wonderful trait, if misplaced.” Lotor’s feet, Keith realized, were bare on the carpet. He walked away, out of sight, and Keith raised his head. 

“Ah-ah,” Glak warned cheerfully, pushing it back down with a tentacle. “You’re not supposed to move.” 

Keith hadn’t even noticed his approach. Something touched the back of his neck, anchoring to the collar. A leash. He could feel the cold press of its chain down the bare skin on his back. 

When Lotor came back, several minutes later, he was fully dressed, the clink of his armored boots muffled against the plush carpet. He tugged the leash from Glak’s hand. “On your knees, you’ll walk as a beast until you learn how to serve like a being.” 

He  _ what _ ? Keith scrambled to keep up as his collar was tugged, pressing against the swell of his adam’s apple until it threatened to choke. They left Glak and the plush rooms behind, the naked guardswoman from before joining them, now fully dressed as well. 

Shuffling around with both his hands cuffed was difficult, even if Lotor hadn’t been setting a punishing pace. The collar chafed against Keith’s neck and under his chin, keeping his breath short as he learned how to shuffle after him. They passed other guards- sentries, mostly, but the occasional stare that left Keith’s pride twisting with embarrassment. He had never had much, but he’d always been a little vain of his dignity. 

Lotor’s footsteps slowed only as they rounded another corridor. The elevators had been kindest to Keith’s knees so far, but both of them ached. The last lift had been the longest and Keith had dared to cautiously sit up. Although Lotor hadn’t seemed to take notice of it, the guardswoman did, using the butt of his sword to push Keith back down. 

When the doors opened, this time, instead of dull purple walls, there was a lavish, unfenced balcony. A box with two gunmetal thrones and several smaller chairs. A roar rose from the crowd, like a cheer and a salute all at once. 

Lotor seated himself in the first throne and tugged on Keith’s leash, forcing him to sit at his feet. The carpeted floor ended abruptly before them, maybe a hundred feet,a sheer drop straight into what looked like a vast, sandy pit. The stench of blood rose from the sands, nearly overwhelming. Two alien figures were being dragged across the arena.

For a moment, Keith wondered if he was going to be thrown over it, sent to fight after all. His next thought was of Shiro, but neither of the combatants below looked even vaguely like him. One wasn’t even humanoid, more like a heavily-armored crab with a spiked carapace. 

Why had he been brought here? To be shown off? Everybody had to know by now that two of Voltron’s paladins had been taken. His stomach twisted with unease. Then, he felt Lotor’s large, claw-tipped hand on his neck.

“Paladin. Make yourself useful.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lotor/Keith focus for the next couple of chapters as Keith gets used to his new role. It's going to get a lot more sexual and weird from now on, so for anyone who's ill-prepared, this is your stop. :') 
> 
> Let me know what you think! And/or scream with me over Lotor actually being a swordfighting badass.


	4. Chapter 4

Lance had wondered, once, out loud, what alien dicks looked like. Shiro had given him the stink eye for it, and the conversation had been effectively closed. He didn’t bring it, or any other Galra speculations, up again once Keith’s heritage became known, much to his quiet relief. 

Looking at what was before him now, Keith had the strange, hysterical thought that if he ever saw Lance again, he could tell him Galra had two. At least, Lotor did. 

The first dick was larger than the other, a robust, dark purple color, with a pointed tip and an asymmetrical, flared head. The second was shorter, blunt, two large veins running underneath in pale lilac. Both were thick, about the width of a wrist, almost imbalanced against Lotor’s comparatively svelte figure. Then again, he was still a head or so taller and far wider than Keith was. 

Cheek pressed against Lotor’s thigh and claws tangled in his hair, Keith balked. 

“I’d rather not,” he said, trying to resist the tight grip on his hair.

Lotor dragged Keith in, his soft cock sliding across his cheek. “Take it into your mouth, Paladin. Surely you understand that much.” 

“I’ll bite it,” Keith said reflexively.  

“Do and I’ll make sure the same happens to your friend. Regrettably, our teeth are far better at accomplishing that threat.” Lotor smirked, sharp canines peeking through. 

“Fuck you,” Keith hissed at him, and stared down at the trail of silky salt-white hair that peeked from the opening in Lotor’s trousers. He could barely see what it was, from this angle. Maybe that would make it easier. Lotor’s skin smelled faintly of something sharp and woodsy, like a summer forest. He hadn’t noticed it earlier. 

It was funny, the things you noticed when you wanted to ignore something in front of your face. 

He reached for the first, feeling Lotor’s disinterested gaze on him as he ran his fingers over the plump shaft. It was heavy, a little cooler than usual, but still far more recognizable than he’d like. He glanced up to see if Lotor had gone back to watching the battle- only to find his hooded gaze trained on him, calculating and amused. 

“Your face hides no secrets, Paladin.” The title caused a small stir- barely a hiccup as the guards shifted. Not even the Galra were immune to gossip, it looked like. Lotor had just announced who he was. 

“Do try not to bore me. I have little and less use for those.” 

Fucker. Keith refused to look up again as he tentatively angled his head to take the tip of the first cock inside. It tasted like nothing, a faint tang, maybe, like lemon water. His ears burned at being forced to do this as the guards looked on. The fawning public’s eyes were on the match, but that wouldn’t last forever. 

He licked the tip, tongue tracing over the strange, spongy flared head to buy time and composure. 

The last time he’d had to suck someone off, he’d been on his knees in an alley, some drunk’s fifty tucked into his belt. He’d never told anyone about it. And he’d made sure to stay in dark places. 

There weren’t a lot of honest options for a drop out, especially one with no people or social skills to speak of; who couldn’t smile on demand. But Keith had always been good with his body. 

“You dawdle like a newborn calf. Must I bring our other paladin out to show you how it’s done?”

Keith flinched and squeezed his hand into a fist, stroking him. Did Galra get hard? Or was he just supposed to suck? He wasn’t sure, but this way, he could suck sloppily at the head, running his tongue along the slit and under the ridge. Folding his lips around his teeth, he tried to take more. His jaw ached sharply, barely letting him take a few inches before he started to choke. He pulled off hastily, spit dripping from the corner of his mouth as he coughed. Amateur mistake, but it didn’t seem like Lotor was complaining. 

Nuzzling against the base of the twin cocks to buy himself time, Keith noticed they were hard, firmer against his fingers. He could work with that. He licked long stripes around the shafts, pressing them together so he could do both at once. The tang was starting to get thicker. There were strange little bumps along the shaft, like nodes, secreting something slick. Briefly, he wondered if the little bumps housed anything else. Like feline spines. 

Shuddering, Keith swallowed and tried not to think about it. If he was going to get his throat torn out, it would be well after Lotor had had his fill.

He focused his attention back on the tips, tongue lapping at them until they darkened, wet from his spit. His hands pumped and squeezed around the shaft, fingers starting to drip with the viscous precum. It worked- until Lotor tugged on his hair again, a vicious jerk that thrust his cock deep into Keith’s mouth. Keith coughed, swallowing frantically to keep his gag reflex down. 

Lotor filled his senses. He couldn’t breathe. The alien cock pressed against the back of his throat and he wasn’t even all the way in. Keith clawed at the thick cloth on the prince’s lap as Lotor kept him there, rolling his hips lazily to wedge a little more of himself inside Keiths mouth. Keith’s eyes watered and his lungs burned, vision starting to cloud.

Then, he was released, tugged off of Lotor’s cock like a ragdoll. Air rushed into his lungs for a sweet, blissful moment before he was pulled back in violently. “Gh-!” He dug his fingers into Lotor’s thighs, forcing himself to relax his throat and let Lotor fuck his face. The second cock slid wetly against his chin, dripping in strings. Anger seethed with the indignation that boiled under Keith’s skin. It was easier to embrace, easier to stomach. He glared up at Lotor as he hammered his throat, making it bulge with his fullness. 

Lotor’s smirk was a taunt, meeting his fury with challenge.

Keith sucked, mustering up what strength he could to hollow his cheeks, using every gasp to its fullest. He could barely do more than bob his head, lips pulled tight and sealed to the flushed skin. He groped blindly at Lotor’s cocks, pressing his thumbs around the base. 

Something worked. The shaft pumping in his mouth tensed and jerked, cum exploding against his throat until he had no choice but to swallow it or drown. More dripped from his front. 

He pulled off, spluttering as more cum dribbled around his chin, painting his face in sticky streaks. There was so much of it, he was all but drenched. 

An elegant hand tilted his chin up and he glared as a thumb slipped between his lips, tracing the brutal path his cock had taken against his swollen lips.. 

“Beautiful. I rather like you like this, wretched and flushed.” Lotor smirked. He reached beside him and pressed a dark green berry, like a large olive, against Keith’s lips. “A reward. For learning so quickly. One would think you’d been trained already.”

Shame hit Keith’s gut, roiling with the foreign cum settled in his belly. Even if Lotor didn’t, would never know the truth, it hardly mattered. He was a whore and it showed. 

The food tempted him. Keith’s stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t so much as seen food in days, subsisting on the vitamin water packs that were tossed into the cells instead. The only thing in his stomach was Lotor’s alien seed. Hunger made his mouth salivate, but pride made him hesitate. 

He pushed it down. Pride had never filled his belly. And it had never given him strength when his knees were too weak to stand. 

He took the olive between his teeth, disdaining to brush against Lotor’s fingers. The fruit was salty and sweet, with a texture closer to mealy pickles. It mingled with the lingering tart taste of cum on his tongue. 

“Good, isn’t it?” Lotor hummed, his slit-pupiled irises bright. His voice was low and languid. 

It  _ was  _ good. And somehow, that made things  _ worse _ .

“Kulu fruit. From Hemakatu, a dear friend and ally to the Empire,” Lotor murmured, selecting another for Keith to eat, offering it on long fingers. 

“When my father arrived at Hemakatu’s bloodshores, his rage still seethed in his veins. Lauded are the bonds of Paladins; yet so easily they shattered. He came to conquer, to blood his sword, but instead he found submission. The Hemaru welcomed him with many arms and so now they stand among us ten millennia later, citizens and free, the envy of worlds all over the Galaxy. We sup on the same food and cherish the same ideals. What is theirs is ours and ours theirs.”

Lotor turned to him. “Tell me, Paladin, what do you know of the Empire’s people?” 

Keith frowned. “I know that more people want to be free than join your brainwashed army.” He thought about the alliance- about their fear and the ecstatic joy from when they’d been freed. The festivals; the parades- wasn’t that what it meant to be free? 

“Simplistic,” Lotor dismissed. “It is why your Princess flounders to unite the dissenters. What can she offer? Neither food nor shelter nor the safety of numbers. Nobility and ideals is all very well and good, but when one is cold, hungry and downtrodden-” Lotor paused, his eyes brighter. “When one scrapes, not knowing where or when you will find your next meal or if you will live to see another day- ideals are worth less than the spit it’d take to curse them.” 

Lotor smiled, wide and sharp. “You know my words for true, paladin,” he said lowly, watching Keith flinch. “I see the hunger and the anger in your eyes.” 

He fed Keith another, leaning his cheek on one propped fist. “A cruel overlord is easy to hate, but once he disappears the beast in your belly lows for flesh, it turns upon itself, realizing that the absence does not fill its belly with the prosperity it craves. Should the Empire disappear on the morrow, so too would your alliance fete itself on civil strife. They are frightened. And they are hungry.” 

Lotor leaned close and Keith shuddered, goosebumps under his skin. “You may loathe my legacy, Paladin, but you show me you are nothing if not... pragmatic.” 

He knew. He definitely knew. Keith reeled back, ready to spit- but Lotor kissed him, first. A deep, open-mouthed kiss, long tongue curling against the back of his mouth. Lotor breathed in his protests, leaving him choking. He pulled away slowly, Keith’s throat in one hand. With a twist of his wrist, he could break it. 

“Meffrid,” he said pleasantly, summoning the guard to the right. “I believe the paladin has overly tired himself. Do see him to his rooms.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. That S3, huh?
> 
> >.>
> 
> <.<

**Author's Note:**

> As usual I'm over at [PepperPaprika](https://pepperpaprika.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Let me know what you think. I'm gonna... be trying a few things out. Cough.


End file.
